


In For A Penny

by TheVoiceNextdoor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Coworkers to lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Insecurity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Slash, Touch-Starved Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVoiceNextdoor/pseuds/TheVoiceNextdoor
Summary: Another Friday, another late night at the DMLE.  Another evening of watching the sunset through windows enchanted to show the sky outside.  Another afternoon of sitting at his desk while the rest of the team filtered out for the weekend, leaving just him and Potter working in silence when the clock struck six.Potter.  Always Potter.  The only Auror on staff who didn’t seem to get the memo that Draco Malfoy was to be left alone.-In which Draco fundamentally misunderstands an invitation.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 521





	In For A Penny

Another Friday, another late night at the DMLE. Another evening of watching the sunset through windows enchanted to show the sky outside. Another afternoon of sitting at his desk while the rest of the team filtered out for the weekend, leaving just him and Potter working in silence when the clock struck six. 

Potter. Always Potter. The only Auror on staff who didn’t seem to get the memo that Draco Malfoy was to be left alone. 

It wasn’t that he hated Potter, quite the opposite. It was that the great bespectacled git made him distinctly uncomfortable. It was that he seemed to have fully forgiven Draco for his past transgressions, with no expectation of anything in exchange. It was that his eyes were quite painfully green behind those damned glasses, and every time he pushed up his sleeves the sight of his forearms made Draco feel distinctly short of breath. It was that he sat with him at lunch and made inane small talk about Longbottom’s newest research or Weaselette’s spectacular Quidditch career or whether or not Draco had plans for the weekend. 

Of course Draco didn’t have plans for the weekend. Draco hadn’t had plans for the weekend since Blaise left for his mother’s Italian villa after the war, since Pansy married a nice boring Hufflepuff and settled down to raise nice boring non-genocidal children, since Anthony decided that MACUSA was better suited for his talents than the Ministry. Every Friday, Draco worked until his eyes gave out and then went home to get sloshed in the tiny shoebox of a London apartment he’d moved into when they lost the Manor. 

“I thought I’d get a drink,” Potter said without looking up from his papers.

“Hmm?”

“At the Leaky, probably. Want to come with?”

Draco stared. Potter cut him off before he could wrap his mouth around the word ‘no’.

“Just one drink, come on.” And then he smiled, the bastard, that quintessentially Potter smile that was a little bit lopsided and a little bit shy and a great deal more arresting than it had any right to be. “Don’t make me drink alone.”

Draco melted, like the damn fool he was. “Sure,” he said casually. “Why not?”

He stood and swept toward the door with as much of the Malfoy gravitas as he could muster, summoning his coat from the stand by the door. Potter caught up with him by the lifts, and they walked in awkward silence to the Floo. 

The thing about the Leaky Cauldron was that it was damned crowded. The only wizard pub in London proper, it was usually impossible to get a table any time after 5. Particularly on a Friday. 

But of course, nothing was impossible for Harry Potter. Draco felt the eyes of half the pub on his back as he shuffled along to the oh-so-conveniently recently vacated booth in the back. He wondered if there was a spell that would allow him to sink into the ground and disappear. Granger would probably know. He’d have to ask next time he saw her. 

Potter slid into the seat across from him and slid him a pint. 

“Thank you.”

“Your round next,” he said, flashing that damned grin again. 

They must have made something resembling small talk at that point, but Draco couldn’t have said what his contributions had been. He felt like half the world had been consumed by static, leaving nothing but muffled voices and staring eyes and a slightly lopsided grin across the table. 

“Excuse me,” he said, and slipped out of the booth. He managed to get to the loo before his hands started shaking, scrabbling at the doorknob before he could finally convince it to turn. 

He splashed cold water on his face and stood bent over the basin, gripping the cold ceramic like a lifeline. 

“Malfoy?”

If he could grip any harder, he’d have broken the sink. He didn’t look up. Potter came and stood by his side, laying a warm hand in between his shoulder blades. Draco twitched involuntarily and the hand went away again. 

“Malfoy, what’s wrong?”

He made a sound that was probably a laugh, making eye contact with Potter through the mirror. Those excessively green eyes were full of concern. Damn. “Never been a war criminal in a public place, eh, Potter?” His mother would have raised her eyebrows at his tone. He could hear her now — Draco Lucius Malfoy, there’s a way to behave. He looked back down at his hands. “I can’t stand the staring.”

“Malfoy. They were staring at me. They always stare at me. I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

“Yes,” he bit out, “well.”

“You were acquitted.”

Draco whirled. “Yes,” he hissed, “I recall.”

They stood there and stared at each other. Eventually, Draco sagged a bit, the bluster going out of him and leaving just the old familiar weight. “It doesn’t matter. You should go back out. I’ll leave.”

“If you want to go, we can go.” Potter looked confused, as though he didn’t quite understand why he shouldn’t be seen with a former Death Eater of a Friday night. 

“You can stay if you want.”

“I don’t want.” Potter was finally starting to sound annoyed, as though it were Draco who was missing the painfully obvious, not him. “Malfoy, has it occurred to you that I asked you out because I actually wanted to spend time with you?”

Draco’s brain briefly short circuited. “What?”

Potter was grinning again. “Malfoy...Draco, what do you think is happening here?”

“You took pity on me and invited me for a beer.”

Potter took a step closer. “No. Draco, I’ve been taking you to lunch twice a week for six months because I like you and I find you attractive and I want to get to know you better. This is a date, Malfoy.”

“Oh.”

“Obviously, only if you want it to be, if you’re not interested I will not be upset in the slightest and I will go home and drink away my embarrassment before Monday, but I thought…” 

“Why?”

“Why did I think you were interested?”

Draco shook his head, half in answer and half to shake the remaining cobwebs from his brain. “Why are you interested?” 

“Draco.” Potter’s voice was soft, and Draco realized he had taken another step and was now directly in front of him. “Have you ever looked at yourself? If you told me you were part Veela, I wouldn’t question it. Obviously also you’re a brilliant Auror and wildly creative with jinxes and very funny when you want to be, but have you ever considered that you attract stares because you’re attractive?”

No. No he absolutely hadn’t. Why the fuck would he consider that?

“Oh,” he said intelligently. 

Potter reached out and brushed Draco’s hair aside where it had stuck damply to his forehead. He was smiling, and this close Draco could see the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. It must be nice, he thought wildly, to smile that much. 

“May I?” 

Draco wasn’t totally sure what he’d agreed to, but he nodded anyway. Potter slipped a hand behind Draco’s neck and leaned in to kiss him. 

It was chaste and benign and also the only human contact Draco had experienced in months. Humiliatingly, he moaned, leaning into Potter’s grip. Potter pulled back, and they made deeply uncomfortable eye contact for a moment while Draco waited for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. 

Potter let go of Draco’s neck. 

Potter reached for his wand. 

Draco waited for his inevitable and well-deserved death. 

Potter waved his wand at the door, which clicked locked, and put his wand back in his pocket. 

Draco blinked, and then Potter’s arms were around his neck and he was being thoroughly kissed. This was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Draco Had Been A Right Prat To For Seven Years, and his tongue was in Draco’s mouth and his hand was running through Draco’s hair and his torso was pressed against Draco’s body in a way that parts of Draco were finding very interesting indeed. 

And then he was backing Draco against the wall, and there was a hand sliding down Draco’s side, and when had his trousers been unbuttoned? And did it matter, because Harry Potter’s hand was cupping him through his boxers and Harry Potter’s thumb was sweeping experimentally down his shaft and Harry Potter was breaking the kiss and dropping to his knees and looking up at him with big, ridiculously green eyes and asking “Is this alright?” as he slid Draco’s cock free.

He must have said something because moments later the Boy Who Lived was sucking Draco Malfoy’s cock in the grungy washroom of the Leaky Cauldron and half of Wizarding London was just outside the door and eventually someone would need the loo and in the meantime Draco was discovering that Harry Potter was extremely good with his tongue. 

Draco had the presence of mind to cast a Silencing Charm before becoming totally absorbed in the sensation of Potter’s tongue running circles around the head of his cock, the feeling of messy black hair under his palm as he pulled the other man closer, the way Potter was gripping the back of Draco’s thigh for leverage. He was gasping, moaning Potter’s name, begging him, and…

“Harry.” Potter had pulled back long enough to say it, holding Draco’s gaze with a satirical eye as he licked Draco’s shaft from root to tip. “Your dick’s in my mouth, call me Harry.”

“Harry,” Draco echoed with a nod, and Harry’s mouth was once again occupied with trying to melt Draco’s brain. 

He was thrusting automatically into Harry’s mouth, hips rolling as the other man held suction and let him move. He could feel pressure building deep in his abdomen, little twinges of something more intense already shooting down his arms and into the hands that gripped Harry’s hair. 

Harry pulled away again, stroking Draco with firm, even strokes as he looked up at him again. “Do you want to come like this?”

Draco whined.

“Do you want to come like this, or…”

“Or?” The world was slightly slurred.

“Or,” Harry said with utmost patience, “do you want me to fuck you?”

Draco almost came right then, grabbing Harry’s wrist to hold him still as he fought for control. After a few deep breaths, he let go and looked down at the man sitting back on his heels in front of him. “I didn’t realize that was an option.”

Harry gestured vaguely at the tent in the front of his trousers. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

“What?”

“Muggle thing. Don’t worry about it. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

Draco suddenly found himself bent over the sink, the ceramic still warm where he’d been holding it before. His shirt was unbuttoned somehow, and Harry wrapped an arm around him to stroke his chest. 

“I’d like to see more of you, but that will have to wait until next time.”

The words ‘next time’ rang in Draco’s head while his trousers were being yanked down to mid-thigh and a lubrication charm was being whispered and a slick finger was pressing into him with the confidence of a man who’s done this before and maybe he should ask Harry about that sometime but oh. 

Oh. 

It was two fingers now, and now they were curving, and now they were stroking a spot inside him that made him see stars, and now he was opening his eyes and there was Harry Potter smiling at him with his fingers in Draco’s ass and,

“If you don’t fuck me right now I think I’m going to drop dead right here.”

“Can’t have that,” Harry said, bending in to plant a kiss on Draco’s shoulder. He heard a zipper behind him, a new lubrication charm, felt the blunt heat of him at his back, and then he was being stretched open with a dull, pleasant ache as Harry slid slowly home. 

“Fuck.” He couldn’t take his eyes off Harry’s face in the mirror, Harry’s hand still spread across his bare chest, Harry’s hips thrusting behind his with slow and devastating caution that made Draco want to both kiss and throttle him. “Harder.”

The other man complied, snapping his hips into Draco’s with speed that reminded Draco that he wasn’t the only one who’d been an athlete at school. And then he was moving Draco’s hips for him, adjusting the angle until he was hitting his prostate with every thrust and Draco’s knuckles were white where they gripped the sink for balance. 

And what Harry had started on his knees was building again, coming up like a freight train he was powerless to stop, and as he watched Harry with desperation in his eyes the other man reached around him and stroked him once, twice, and he was coming. 

“Fuck,” he heard behind him as the moan was wrenched out of him, elbows shaking as they tried to keep him upright, body tensing around Harry as he tried to ride the wave. “Fuck, Draco…” And then Harry was following him, his cock jumping in a way that made Draco keen and wobble even more. 

They stood there, still intertwined, for several moments as they caught their breath, Harry bending his head to rest between Draco’s shoulder blades, keeping his grip on Draco’s cock as if he half expected Draco to try to run away.

“Do you,” Draco croaked out, “want to get a drink sometime?”

Harry’s laugh was warm against his back.

**Author's Note:**

> These boys. *shakes head affectionately*
> 
> Thanks to my beta for being willing to read a great deal of gay porn on a Sunday afternoon.


End file.
